


Haunted Heart

by Hils



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10550422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hils/pseuds/Hils
Summary: Dean’s pretty content working as a handyman in Ellen’s hotel. Then Castiel comes along and he realizes that maybe something was missing from his life after all.





	

Ellen liked to tell people that Harvelle House was haunted. It wasn’t, but she’d made one up upon learning that the tourists loved a good ghost story. Funnily enough, people would buy anything if they wanted to believe it badly enough. Quite often when guests checked out of her hotel, they told her about the weird noises they’d heard or presences they felt; one or two even claimed to have seen something. Ellen simply nodded knowingly, and let them believe whatever they wanted. It was just good business.

When she decided to move to England after Bill’s death, her friends told her she was nuts. Maybe they were right, but the important people--her family--understood that she needed a fresh start, and told her to go for it. She missed her daughter of course, but Jo made it over every summer while on break from college, and Ellen had Dean with her for that little reminder of home. Fact was, Dean was practically a son these days, but she sure as hell would never tell him that.

"Blocked toilet in Room Six," she informed him, as soon as he walked through the door that morning. His grimace was enough to make her grin. It wasn’t that she liked tormenting him exactly, but it didn’t hurt, either.

After all, that’s what family did.

* * *

Fixing the blocked toilet in Room Six was a pretty easy job, but not really the way Dean liked to start his day. Usually he kicked things off with an awesome breakfast, courtesy of Ellen’s chef, while Ellen supplied him with strong coffee to help him wake up.

Luckily, breakfast was waiting for him when he finished, and as soon as he sat down Ellen was there with the coffee. She was like a second mother to him, but he sure as hell would never tell her that.

As always, the breakfast was fantastic. Ellen sourced all her food from local farmers, which was more expensive, but she claimed that people didn’t mind paying extra since it tasted better. Despite having lived across the pond for over five years, Dean still wasn’t used to the English Breakfast. He missed pancakes like crazy and nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever convince him to try black pudding, no matter how many people told him how great it was.

"I’ll be sure to pass on your compliments to the chef," Ellen said with a wry smile as she picked up Dean’s empty plate. "You want some more coffee?"

Dean nodded, but Ellen’s attention was already on the hotel guest who had just come in and sat down. Dean was used to this so he helped himself to some coffee and checked out the new guy.

"Morning," Ellen smiled brightly. "What can I get you to eat?"

Dean figured the guy was here on business, but he also guessed that he wasn’t a high-flyer in whatever company he worked for. He could spot the rich executive types a mile away; they gave good tips because everything got written off on the company’s bill. This guy definitely wasn’t that type, though. His suit was cheap, clearly not tailored to fit him, and his hair was such a mussed-up mess that Dean couldn’t quite work out whether he’d styled it that way, or if he just hadn’t bothered to comb it before coming down for breakfast. What really grabbed Dean’s attention wasn’t the bed hair or what may or may not have been designer stubble--it was the dude’s eyes. Even from the other side of the room Dean could see how blue they were, especially since right now he was staring at Dean.

Shit. Busted.

"Dean?" Ellen said. He realized that the reason the guy was staring at him was because Ellen had said something, and Dean had been so preoccupied that he didn’t hear her.

"Sorry, what?" Dean shook his head to clear it. "Need more coffee, Ellen. Haven’t woken up yet."

It was a poor lie and they both knew it, but Ellen played along. "No hot water in Room Three. Could you take a look while our guest finishes his breakfast?"

"Sure." Dean drained his coffee and rose to his feet. "I’ll head on up now, if that’s okay?"

He was looking for permission from the guest, rather than Ellen. Some people were twitchy about staff going into their rooms before they’d had a chance to tidy up or whatever.

"Thank you," the hot guy said, softly, but loud enough that Dean could hear him. His voice was low and gravelly, and did things to Dean’s dick that he really didn’t want to think about while Ellen was standing five feet away.

"I’ll just go and grab my tools."

* * *

It was hard to believe anyone was actually staying there, given how neat Room Three was. The bed was made, the one suitcase closed and neatly stored in the closet, and the shampoo was tucked away in the corner of the bathroom. Weirdly, the neatness of the room really didn’t mesh with the guy staying in it. Hell, even his tie had been crooked.

Dean set about checking the boiler and quickly found that one of the hot water valves had come loose. Another easy fix, thankfully. All he needed to do was replace it.

"I apologize for putting you to work so early this morning."

Dean jumped at the sound of the voice and then cursed when his head made painful contact with the boiler.

"Jesus," he grumbled as he rubbed his head. "Warn a guy before you sneak up on him."

"I apologize," hot guy said. "Again. Are you all right?"

Dean couldn’t quite place the accent but the guy was definitely American. It reminded him of home a little.

"Yeah, I’m peachy," Dean replied. "And I’m about done here." He packed away his tools and went into the bathroom, smiling in satisfaction when steaming hot water came out of the faucet when he turned it on. Another job well done.

The back of his neck prickled and he could tell that he was being watched. When he turned around hot guy was standing in the doorway watching him and hell he was even hotter up close.

"Thank you."

Dean shrugged. "It’s what they pay me for."

This was usually the point where the guest made small talk which boiled down to ‘get the hell out of my room’, but instead the guy didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at him.

"So," Dean said as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "You staying here long?"

"A few days." The guy was still staring at him, and he wasn’t making any move to get out of the way so Dean could leave. It was almost creepy.

"So what brings you here? Business or pleasure?"

"I am here to work, but I am hoping to get some time to see the city, too. York has a lot of history that I would like to explore."

Dean nodded. "Well, if you want history you’ve come to the right place. York is one of the oldest cities in England. I can recommend some things to see, or if you want a tour, I finish work at lunchtime." He had no idea where that came from. but as soon as the words passed his lips he saw a smile ghost over the guy’s lips.

"That’s very kind, thank you."

Dean stuck out his hand. "I’m Dean."

The guy looked at the outstretched hand for a moment as though he almost wasn’t sure what to do with it. Finally, though, he took it and shook it. Damn if he didn’t have a strong grip on him.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dean. I’m Castiel."

Dean grinned. "Wow, that’s kind of a mouthful. Do people call you Cas for short?"

Castiel tilted his head and looked at Dean quizzically. "Not so far, no."

"Oh. Sorry, dude."

"It’s all right. I’ve never had a nickname before. I quite like it."

Dean pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to Castiel. "My number’s on there. If you need a tour guide, just give me a call." Their fingers brushed as Castiel took the card from him, and Dean’s cock gave an appreciative twitch. Oh, yeah, he was already half-gone for this guy.

"Thank you," Castiel said as he slipped the card into his coat pocket. Finally, he stepped aside so that Dean could leave.

All in all, Dean considered it a pretty successful morning--and it wasn’t even 10am yet.

* * *

Not twenty-four hours passed before Castiel called Dean and asked for a tour of the city. "Only if you’re not busy, of course," he hastily added. "I appreciate that you have a hotel to keep running."

Dean grinned. "I think Ellen can spare me for a few hours. Besides, if I’m keeping one of her guests happy, I’m pretty sure she’ll be cool with it. She can always call me if something goes wrong. Want me to pick you up from the hotel?"

"Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble." The guy was so damn polite, it was unreal. And Dean actually found it kind of sweet.

"I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. See you soon, Cas."

He had a feeling today was going to be a good day.

* * *

Castiel was waiting for him outside when he pulled up in his car and parked it at the back of the hotel.

"It’s a beautiful day," Castiel explained before Dean even asked. "I thought I’d enjoy the fresh air rather than sitting cooped up inside."

"Well, if you like fresh air, you’re in luck. You’ll get plenty today," Dean replied with a smile. The sun was shining down on Castiel’s upturned face, making him seem to glow. "Parking in the city center is a bitch, so we’ll take the bus and then walk. It’s actually a lot smaller than it looks."

Castiel nodded. "That sounds nice. I don’t really care for driving, anyway. I prefer to be outdoors."

"Seriously?" Dean asked and then snorted. "You’d change your mind pretty quickly if I took you out for a spin in my baby."

He patted his car lovingly. The biggest regret of leaving the US was leaving behind his beloved Impala. Sam had promised to take good care of her, and Dean had threatened him with death if he didn’t. Still, he’d grown to love his Aston Martin. When he’d bought her she’d been a wreck and Dean had spent months fixing her up to be like new. There was a lot of love between them now. He took care of her and she didn’t let him down.

Castiel smiled. "I have no doubt you could convince me otherwise, but perhaps another time." Dean took in the playful half-smile on Castiel’s face, and grinned. The dude was totally flirting with him.

"Next time, for sure," he agreed. "You ready to get out of here?"

Castiel nodded, and the two of them walked down the road to the bus stop, about to embark on their first unofficial date.

* * *

The bus dropped them off just around the corner from York Minster, so they headed there first. Or they would have, had Castiel not stopped dead in the middle of the street, causing the people behind them to tut and grumble under their breath.

"You okay?"

Castiel gestured at the cathedral and said, "Look at it, Dean. It’s such a magnificent building."

The limestone exterior seemed bleached white beneath the shining sun, stained glass windows sparkling in an array of colors. It was beautiful, yes, but Dean usually avoided this place. It was a tourist trap and it was impossible to walk past without being stopped several times by people asking him to take their photo.

"Yeah, it’s awesome," Dean said. Cas was a tourist, so he may as well humor him. "You want to take some pictures?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don’t own a camera. I just wanted to see it."

"You don’t own. . ." Dean didn’t know anyone that didn’t own a camera, even if just a crappy phone camera. Who visited England and didn’t bring a camera?

"Stand over there."

He tugged Castiel by the arm and positioned him in front of the Minster before taking a few steps back and snapping a picture with his phone. Cas looked stiff and awkward and slightly puzzled by what was going on, but it was better than nothing.

"There," Dean smiled. "Now you have a souvenir of your trip. I’ll email it to you. You do have an email address, right?"

"Of course," Castiel replied indignantly. "I am required to have one for work. Can we go inside now?"

If Cas was impressed by the outside, Dean was pretty sure the inside was going to blow his mind. "Sure. I think it costs about eight quid."

". . . What?" Castiel looked like someone had kicked his puppy, and then kicked him in the nuts for good measure.

"It’s an old building, Cas. They need the money to keep it in good condition. Hey, if it’s too much, I can treat you."

Castiel shook his head. "It’s not about the money, Dean. This is a house of the Lord. It should be open to all."

Oh, so Cas was the religious type. Dean should have figured there was something wrong with the guy. "Relax, dude. People don’t have to pay if they want to attend a service or whatever. You still want to go in?" Castiel really looked unsure about the whole thing, so Dean made the decision for him. "Come on. I’ll pay and then you’re not committing any sort of sin."

Before Cas could argue, Dean took his arm for the second time that morning and tugged him towards the door. He got in for free with his York Resident’s Card and paid for Cas. Slowly, so that Cas could take it all in, the two of them walked the halls of the cathedral.

Dean had never felt particularly comfortable in this place. Sam had insisted they come during his last visit, and Dean spent the whole time feeling like a gnat in a palace. He figured it was probably designed to make people feel like that. Sam loved it, of course, and Dean could see the same awe in Castiel’s eyes as they made a slow loop of the building.

"So I take it you’re the religious type," said Dean as they stopped to stand below the rose window. The floor beneath them was dappled in reds, blues and greens where the light shone through.

"I have faith," Castiel replied. "What about you, Dean? What do you believe in?"

Dean shrugged. "I believe in what I see. No offence, Cas. You can believe whatever you want but I have a hard time buying that God would give a crap about me."

"God loves everyone, Dean. Even you."

They stood there under the light of the window for a while. Dean honestly had no idea what else to say to Castiel. So Cas had faith, good for him. Dean learned a long time ago that pretty much the only person he could count upon was himself. If God existed, he was a pretty crappy guy for letting so much bad shit happen in the world. Dean decided to keep his opinions to himself, though. There was no point getting into a theological debate with a guy he wanted to bone.

"You ready to get out of here?" Dean finally asked, and he was relieved when Castiel nodded.

"Yes, I would like to see more of the city. I really only have today to explore, and then I need to work."

"What is it that you do?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged. "Nothing interesting. Shall we proceed with the tour? I’d much rather see the city than talk about something uninteresting like work."

Dean let it slide for now. It wasn’t like he knew Cas all that well anyway. If the dude didn’t want to talk about his job then Dean wasn’t going to push it. It’s not like he had the most glamorous job in the world himself.

Dean gave Cas the condensed version of the city tour. They headed to Clifford’s Tower first, which was the only remaining part of the castle in York, though it was partially in ruins.

"Such a sad history," Castiel mused softly.

He was reading a plaque that explained how the Jews of the city had barricaded themselves in the tower, to avoid persecution from the Christians. Eventually they had committed mass suicide, rather than be captured and tortured. Dean placed his hand on the small of Castiel’s back, having nothing to say and hoping that his touch would offer a small amount of comfort. Castiel didn’t pull away.

The final stop on the tour was York Dungeon. While not actually a real dungeon, it was more like a condensed version of all the nasty parts of history. It gave the drama students from the two local universities chance to dress up as plague and murder victims. Dean thought it was lame, but it was a major tourist attraction and Cas wanted to go in.

"It’s dark," Castiel whispered as they made their way through a dark corridor and he slipped his hand into Dean’s. "I don’t want to lose you."

Suddenly it didn’t seem so lame at all. In fact, Dean thought this place was kind of awesome.

* * *

Finally they ended up in the small pub where Dean always took his visiting friends. The Golden Fleece was tucked away off to one side of the main square in York. Most people didn’t even know it was there unless they were specifically looking for it. The place was always a hit with his American friends as it looked just like a stereotypical English pub complete with original wood beams across the ceiling and the smell of freshly cooked food in the air.

"This is the most haunted pub in York," he explained while they waited for their food to arrive. "Five ghosts, apparently, if you believe in that sort of thing."

Castiel glanced around the room, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. It was like he was expecting a ghost to materialize right in front of them.

"I think it would be narrow-minded to assume such things don’t exist," Castiel finally said. Dean couldn’t fault him on that.

Of course, Dean had ordered pie. After five years he’d finally got used to pie with meat in it, and found that steak and ale pie was actually pretty damn awesome. Castiel had gone for sausages and mash, which he seemed to enjoy when the steaming plate was brought out and set down in front of him.

"So, what is it that you do?" Dean asked again as they ate. Cas seemed a lot more relaxed now so Dean figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask again. He genuinely wanted to know more about this guy.

"Nothing very interesting," Castiel replied with his eyes fixed firmly on his food. "I’d rather not talk about it."

"Come on, dude. You’re talking to a guy who fixes toilets for a living. It can’t be that bad. What, are you like a tax accountant or something?"

"Something like that," Castiel murmured and Dean decided to let it drop.

They finished eating in relative silence and then caught the bus back to Ellen’s hotel. It was a cool night and they stood outside the front door for a few moments as they reached the awkward part of their not-quite-date. Dean knew he sure as hell wanted to kiss Castiel right now, but he had no idea whether or not it would be welcome.

"Thank you for today, Dean," Castiel finally said softly. "I had a most pleasant time."

"Me too," Dean replied. "You know, if you get any more free time, you can call me, or I’ll be around at the hotel."

Castiel nodded. "I look forward to seeing more of you."

And with that, Castiel kissed him. Soft at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure it was what Dean wanted. Well, at least they were on the same page in that respect. Dean kissed him back, deepening it and opening his mouth to allow Castiel access. Cas took the cue, his warm tongue massaging Dean’s as they kissed with their bodies flush against each other as Dean pulled Castiel closer. He couldn’t stop the low groan escaping his throat as his hard on dug painfully into his jeans. Christ, he wanted Cas so bad.

"I’m sorry," Castiel said as he pulled back, his voice heavy with regret. "I would like nothing more than to invite you up to my room right now but I really do have to work. I have already waited too long."

And just like that it was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over him. Because--of course--nothing ever went well in Dean’s massively fucked-up life; he would have to be on a date with a guy who preferred work to sex. On the other hand, it was a reminder that Dean was actually supposed to be working as well.

He nodded and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "It’s okay, Cas. I get it. I got things I should be doing too. I guess I got a bit carried away."

Castiel brushed a hand along Dean’s jaw and kissed him again. "I promise we will resume this at a later point though."

Dean grinned. "I’ll hold you to that."

"Goodnight, Dean."

"’Night, Cas."

Dean waited for Castiel to disappear inside before hobbling around to his car. He had a date with his dick and the shower as soon as he got home. Then he had work to do.

* * *

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Cas that he had work to do that night. After he’d jerked off in the shower, he’d made one final read of his notes before packing his bag and heading back out.

He had a ghost to hunt.

* * *

Ghost hunting was not the sort of gig you fell into by accident. Dean’s dad had been a hunter for almost as long as he could remember, and he’d taught Dean everything he knew before he’d died. His brother had learned to hunt with him before going to college, and Dean couldn’t blame him for that. If he had even half the brains Sam had, he sure as hell wouldn’t be doing this.

It wasn’t the worst job in the world. He got to help people and keep them safe, even if most of the time they didn’t even know about it. Most ghosts were harmless; they were just stuck and needed a little nudge to get them to move on. Unfortunately, tonight he wasn’t dealing with that kind. This one was a nasty son of a bitch who liked to toss people around, so Dean was prepared.

He parked up outside the warehouse by the river. It was once used for trade, back when the river was the main mode of transport in and out of the city. These days it was a restaurant, the expensive kind that Dean hated because their food portions were barely big enough to fit on a spoon.

As soon as he got inside, he could tell something was there. It was colder than it should be in May and he had a tingling sensation under his skin that years of hunting had taught him to tune into. It was survival instinct, his dad had told him. His body was telling him to get the hell out of there, but it also worked as a handy paranormal detection device.

Dean set his bag down on one of the tables and pulled out an iron crowbar. Iron wouldn’t kill a ghost, but it would get it to back the hell off if it got too close. Unfortunately the British were a lot more uptight about guns, so Dean wasn’t able to arm himself with his weapon of choice: a shotgun packed with rocksalt rounds. The iron was effective enough, though, and he’d gotten pretty good with the crowbar since moving here.

The notebook with the exorcism ritual was prepped and ready to use as soon as the ghost appeared. It was the only way to get rid of them for good, but the downside was that it took time to recite. If the ghost didn’t want to move into the light, it had plenty of time to try and stop him.

"Come on," Dean muttered under his breath. It was so cold that he was almost shivering; it wouldn’t be long before the thing appeared.

Sure, enough the next thing he knew he was flat on his back with his ears ringing where his head had hit the floor. Ow.

He sat up with a groan and reached for his fallen crowbar. The ghost was standing a few feet away, not making any move to attack but clearly responsible for getting the drop on him. It was a man, or had been a man, dressed in overalls with his entire left side a mangled mess. Industrial accident, Dean figured. No wonder the dude was pissed.

He reached for his book and started to murmur the exorcism ritual softly under his breath, hoping that the ghost wouldn’t hear him until it was too late. For his trouble, Dean was slammed against a pillar in the middle of the room. So much for that theory. He was going to feel this one in the morning, he knew that for sure.

He started reading loudly now. No point in trying to hide it.

"Exorcisamus te, omnis immundus spiritus  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio  
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,  
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

The words caught in his throat as a pressure forced itself around him and stopped him continuing. The son of a bitch was choking him. Well, that was new. He struggled, kicking out and wishing to all hell that he’d kept a tighter hold on his crowbar which was now just in front of him on the floor. His vision started to fade and realized with an almost surprising level of calm that he was going to die.

What surprised him even more was the realization that his biggest regret was not getting to see how things progressed with Cas.

"Ergo draco maledicte  
et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te.  
cessa decipere humanas creaturas,  
eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare."

The pressure suddenly lifted, and Dean collapsed to the ground, heaving in great gulps of air in between coughs. He was still alive, but he had no idea how.

When his vision finally cleared and he was able to breathe again, he blinked at the guy who had just saved his ass. Then he blinked again, because there was no way that he wasn’t imagining things.

"Cas?"

"Dean?"

Dean rubbed his throat; half convinced that he was actually unconscious or maybe even dead, and that that this was either a dream, or the afterlife. Castiel stood over him, still wearing the same outfit as before. His head tilted to one side as he looked at Dean quizzically.

Dean heaved himself to his feet. He could see Castiel’s breath misting in front of him. "Dude, what the hell?"

Castiel raised his hand and motioned Dean to be quiet. "There’s another one here." Although it was rare to have multiple hauntings in the same place, it happened occasionally. Dean nodded and reached for his crowbar. He could ask all the questions he wanted later.

Seconds later he found himself on the ground again, only this time Castiel’s weight was pinning him down. Their faces were just a few inches apart and if they weren’t just about to get killed Dean would have taken a moment to fully appreciate having Cas on top of him.

"I apologize," Castiel murmured but Dean noticed he wasn’t actually making any attempts to move.

"It’s okay," he replied. "Though maybe we should gank this son of a bitch before we do anything else."

Castiel nodded and pulled Dean to his feet. "Can you keep it at bay while I perform the exorcism?"

Dean grabbed his crowbar and nodded. "I’m on it."

He swung as Castiel chanted and noticed that Cas was doing the whole thing from memory. That was pretty impressive. Dean had performed a lot of exorcisms but he always had to have it written down. No matter how many times he did it, he could never remember the whole thing. Cas, though--Cas was a pro. They really were going to have to have a talk when this was over.

And Dean absolutely wasn’t thinking about how hot Latin sounded on Castiel’s tongue.

He swung again as the ghost tried to get to Cas again, but it vanished in a flash of light before he made contact. Instantly, the temperature went up by a few degrees.

"We good?" He asked even though he knew the place was clean.

Castiel nodded. "There are no more spirits here."

"Good, then let’s get out of here so we can talk."

* * *

"It’s a family thing," Castiel explained when they got back to the hotel. They were in his room. Even though Dean really needed a drink, apparently Cas wasn’t really into liquor; so they were drinking tea instead. "All of my brothers hunt spirits. Well, apart from Gabriel, who left us to open a joke shop in LA."

Dean still couldn’t wrap his head around it. "But why here?" he asked. "Don’t you have ghosts back home?"

"Of course," Castiel replied. "This is what you might call ‘field training’. At home my job is more of a research role, and my superior decided I needed to get my hands dirty, so to speak. What better place than the most haunted city in Europe?"

"Well, I’d say you did good," Dean replied. "You saved my ass. Want me to write you a reference?"

Castiel didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. Instead he cupped Dean’s chin and raised his head so he could look at the red marks on Dean’s throat where the spirit had tried to strangle him. "I’m glad I was able to assist you, Dean. I just wish I had arrived faster."

Dean shrugged. "My own stupid fault really. I should have been better prepared. My dad would kick my ass if he was still alive."

Castiel brushed his fingers lightly over the bruised skin. "You know, you have been through quite an ordeal tonight. Perhaps it would be wise if you lay down for a while."

Dean was about to protest that he was fine, when he caught the look in Castiel’s eyes. It was a dark look of lust, and already Dean’s cock was giving an anticipatory twitch. "I think you’re right," he agreed. "But, you know, I might have a concussion. I think you’d better lie down with me just in case."

Castiel nodded. "I think that’s very wise, Dean."

"And I think we should take our clothes off," Dean added. "Just in case they get in the way."

"I couldn’t agree more."

* * *

"I wish I didn’t have to leave," Castiel murmured softly.

It was almost dawn and a soft light was filtering in through the drawn curtains. Dean was sore and tired, but right now he really didn’t give a crap. He was warm and naked in Castiel’s arms and pretty sure he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

He didn’t answer Cas right away, mostly because he’d been trying not to think about it. This was the first time in a long while that Dean had actually felt happy, so of course it had to be because he’d fallen for someone who wasn’t going to stick around.

"I have a few more days," Castiel continued when Dean didn’t reply. "I’m not expected back until next week."

"That’s great, Cas," he replied flatly. "Awesome."

Castiel sighed. "Dean, you know this isn’t what I want. I would like nothing more than to stay here with you but my work is important. I’ve hunted spirits with my brothers and sisters for as long as I can remember. The only reason I’m here is because they felt it would make me better at my job."

Dean propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Cas. "Would you even ask them if you could stay?"

Castiel shook his head. "It’s not that easy, Dean. There are rules."

"They’re your family, man! Don’t you think they’d want you to be happy?"

"I can’t just abandon them just to see how things with you might progress. There’s a bigger picture here than my personal happiness."

Dean had heard enough. "Fine, I get it. I should go." He pulled out of Castiel’s arms and hurriedly pulled on his clothes as the cool air bit into his bare skin.

"Dean, please," Castiel called when Dean’s hand reached for the door.

"Look, I get it, okay? This was just a bit of fun and there’s no point making any more of it. You think you’re the first guest I’ve screwed around with?"

Castiel fell silent and Dean could only imagine the look of hurt on his face. He knew this was something more than a quick fuck, they both did.

Dean closed his eyes, opened the door and walked away. He didn’t look back.

* * *

Dean wasn’t a coward, not by a long shot. No, the reason he called in sick until he was sure Castiel had left the hotel was simply a matter of self-preservation. Now that Cas was gone, he could focus on getting on with his life.

In theory.

"You going to tell me what crawled up your ass?" Ellen asked over breakfast one morning. "Because you’ve had a sour face for weeks now."

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. I’m fine."

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "How about you try that again, when you’ve learned how to lie properly. Is it your brother? Is he okay?"

"Sammy’s fine," Dean quickly reassured her. Ellen was as protective of Sam as she was her own daughter. There was something about Dean’s younger brother that brought out the maternal instinct in everyone. "I spoke to him last week and he’s talking about coming over for the summer with Jo."

"Well, what is it, then? I ain’t going to let you be until you come clean, so you may as well just spit it out."

He knew there was no point trying to get out of it. When Ellen had her mind set on something, no one could distract her. He sighed. "You remember that guy who was staying here a few weeks back? Castiel?"

Pretty soon it all came out. How they’d gone out together, how it had turned out Cas was in the industry and how he’d left to go back to his job. He left out the bit about them having sex in Castiel’s bed. He figured Ellen didn’t need to know that part.

"So you just avoided him until he left?" Ellen asked incredulously. "Boy, you are dumber than a sack of bricks. Did it ever occur to you that this was as hard for him as it is for you? And here you didn’t even give him the chance to say goodbye."

Dean shrugged. "What would be the point? He already decided to leave. Family’s important to him, Ellen. I can’t compete with that."

"Yeah, well, any reasonable family wouldn’t expect him to choose."

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

Dean had been sitting in front of his computer for hours, or at least what felt like hours, anyway. In front of him on the screen was the photo from his phone of Cas standing outside the Minster. Ellen had given him the email address Castiel provided when he checked in, and had sent Dean away with instructions not to come back until he’d made contact.

Problem was, Dean had no idea what the hell to say.

Cas,

That was as far as he’d got. He wasn’t good with words like Sam.

He sighed and started to type.

_Cas,_

_I thought you might want this little souvenir from your trip. I’m sorry I was such an asshole. I think I miss you, but I want you to be happy. I won’t blame you at all if you don’t get back in touch but I hope you do._

_Dean._

He hit send before he could change his mind and then, for the first time in his life, he prayed.

* * *

Two days later, Dean was on the verge of taking out all his anger and frustration out on the u-bend pipe in the bathroom of Room Seven. It was blocked for the third time that week. He was still sore from a bad hunt the night before. Getting tossed around like a rag doll had just reminded him of the night Cas saved him, which in turn reminded him that Cas had never answered his email.

"Stupid fucking son of a bitch," Dean muttered darkly under his breath, as he attempted to tighten the fixing.

"Dean."

The voice, that familiar voice, made him jump and he cracked his head on the underside of the sink. "Fuck!"

Then there were warm arms around him, holding him and gently guiding him out. "Are you all right, Dean?"

He wasn’t all right. Along with the rest of him, his head hurt and he was exhausted; but right now all he could bring himself to care about was the fact that Castiel was standing in front of him, eyes warm with concern.

"You came back," was all he could manage to say.

Castiel nodded. "I rebelled. I told my family I was moving here to work whether they liked it or not, and then I left."

Dean could barely believe what he was hearing, and wondered for a moment whether he had a concussion. "Why?"

Castiel smiled. "For you."

And as Castiel kissed him, Dean realized that his prayer had been answered. For the first time, he had faith that everything was going to work out.

The End.


End file.
